


Necessity

by Alethia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Nate POV, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-02
Updated: 2008-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were things they absolutely <i>had</i> to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, _Generation Kill_ , as written by Ed Burns and David Simon and as portrayed by Alexander Skarsgard, Stark Sands, and others. It is a work of fiction, ergo it never happened. 
> 
> Written for Porn Battle VI. Prompt was "supply lines." Originally posted [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/304816.html#cutid1).

“It’s fucking insane,” Brad panted into Nate’s ear.

Nate pulled back to concentrate on the words. “What is?”

“Racing through no man’s land without securing jack shit. We’ve got no rear security, no supply lines. What do you wanna bet we’re down to one MRE a day in the next forty-eight?”

Valid points, but if Colbert wanted to have a sincere discussion with his LT he’d first have to get his hand away from Nate’s dick.

Said hand roughly stroked _up_ , then purposefully palmed the head of Nate’s cock. “I never bet against you,” Nate gasped. Brad stroked again, merciless. A sharp rock dug into his shoulder but Nate ignored it to focus on breathing and stroking along Brad’s erection.

Stroking which seemed to concern Brad not at _all_.

“This plan is retarded. They’re throwing us headlong into every potential ambush out there. They’re using us as fucking _bait_.”

Vicious jerk on the last and Nate hissed at the mixture of pained pleasure that caused. 

That was it. Nate stopped his hand and squeezed Brad’s cock. Hard. 

“The fuck?”

“Am I boring you, Sergeant?” Nate squeezed again; Brad’s eyes fluttered closed. He really shouldn’t belabor this; they were out in the open and even in the dark anyone could wander by. But that seemed less urgent when Brad sucked in harsh breaths and quivered hard in his hand.

“Sir, you have my undivided attention.”

“Excellent.” Nate punctuated the word with a hard stroke. “I’d hate to think—” Another stroke; Brad panted but held perfectly still. “—that you’re more interested in strategy—” Nate kept stroking and ignored how Brad tightened the hand on his dick. “—than in the handjob you’re currently getting.”

“Not at all, sir.” As if to prove it, Brad kept eye contact as Nate’s hand worked up and down his length. 

Nate sped up. They’d done this enough that he could tell Brad was close—he was open-mouthed panting, his eyes drifted shut, and his entire body shook with fine little tremors. 

Brad’s eyes flew open, jolting Nate. “I will, however, need to check you for pussy. Sir,” he growled, overly formal use of rank meant to get under Nate’s skin even more. He then promptly came all over Nate’s fist, eyes shut again, one hand squeezing Nate painfully and the other catching as much come as coordination would allow.

Nate gritted his teeth. He forced his hand to keep working Brad’s cock through it, gentling his hold toward the end. He resisted the urge to move…or rise to the bait. 

Brad dropped his chin down and just breathed for a few long moments. When his eyes opened and lifted to Nate’s…they were laughing.

“You fucking—”

Brad’s laughter was low. “Woulda had some fun coming up with nicknames for you.” He used his own come to slick Nate’s cock, then started stroking him again.

Nate had a retort for that, but—“fuck,” he hissed. Brad wasn’t wasting any time: hand tight around his cock like no girl would ever dare, flicking his wrist every so often, his other hand teasing along the vein underneath, back but not stopping, then teasing that little strip of skin—

“ _Je_ sus— _fuck_!” Nate growled, orgasm a shock. Every muscle tensed, vision crapped out, total loss of control that’d be horrifying if it weren’t like being dragged through an abyss of _hot_ and _good_ and _God_.

Nate had...absolutely no idea how he ended up splayed out on the berm, Brad’s hand cupping his balls.

Brad peered at him like one would examine a lab specimen. It was mildly concerning given where the man’s hand was.

He stroked the skin behind his balls again. “Nope. No pussy, after all. Too bad. Coulda had some fun with that.”

“I don’t know whether to loathe you or laud you right now,” Nate grumbled.

A shit-eating grin appeared as he straightened. Brad was proud of himself. The fucker. “Let me know when you figure it out. In the meantime: lube.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The point I was making earlier. Supply lines. We need lube.”

“Ah. I figured your newfound loquaciousness was Person was rubbing off on you. Sorry.”

“I assure you you’re the only one _rubbing off_ on me.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Of this I am assured.” He paused. “Lube, huh? Should I ask what exactly you need it for?”

“For when an elitist, nancy-boy, Ivy League cocksucker swings by to feel up a real man. Obviously.”

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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